Allister, J. Rose - Disowned Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Allister, Rose J.

  “Will you stay the night?” she asked, glancing at her bed. There was barely enough room on the queen-size for two buff cowboys and herself, but she’d happily squeeze between their hot bodies in exchange for one night to lie blissfully quiet and safe in their arms. Who knew when she’d have a chance again?

  Dillon turned toward the bed, but Kyle clucked at him. “Uh-uh. You’re still wet, and I ain’t sleepin’ in a bed mussed up by damp dog.”

  “I have a blow dryer,” Aimee offered.

  Minutes later, she laughed at Dillon’s peaceful, closed-eye expression while warm air fluffed his beautiful brown-and-gray fur. “You remind me of a dog with his head stuck out the car window,” she said. “Yet another thing I never dreamed I’d be doing this weekend—giving a wolf the gift of a beauty salon treatment.”

  “Don’t pamper him too much,” Kyle said. “He might get used to it.”

  “Better than lying in a damp old cave,” she said, turning to him. “Besides, you’re next.”

  He arched a brow. “In that case, pamper away.”

  His blond hair was mostly dry by the time she ran a comb through it with blasts of air, but she enjoyed the way the pale, silken strands felt while she stroked through them. He took the dryer from her hand. “When’s the last time anyone pampered you, darlin’?”

  She blinked, unable to think of a time while he blew the tingly, heated air over her hair and shoulders. With her curls, a comb would not be sliding through her wet head any time soon, but his fingers sliding through her scalp felt like heaven. Relaxed and calm, exhaustion weighed her down again by the time the dryer fell silent at last.

  The three of them crawled into bed together—two naked, one furry and curled up on the far edge—and Aimee listened to the rhythm of their breaths and to the sound of her spirit ringing with two distinctly different tones. One bell chimed with the joy, fullness and security in the aftermath of two cowboys peeling away her innocence to reveal the woman inside. The other bell rang with loneliness, with the knowledge that she was lying between two men she was not truly a part of and never could be. Regret that she had given into base needs and rejected that logic swirled inside of her. Had she just kept up her guard, she could have prevented the empty hole from opening in her spirit.

  She shoved aside the desolate thought and instead determined to lie awake all night and focus on every nuance of the happiness ringing out from the other internal bells. She wanted to bask in the sensual safety of Kyle’s long, hot muscles pressed to her backside, and to stare in admiration at the wolf’s majestic, shining fur.

  Her plan was not to be, however, and sleep stole her away from post-sex awe long before she was ready to yield to unconsciousness.

  Chapter Seven

  When Aimee shot straight up in bed several hours later, it was for three reasons. Each of them proved more alarming than the one before.

  First, she’d been having a bizarre dream. She was walking along the Shay Falls overlook with Dillon, who had transformed into a shining white wolf. When they stopped to admire the view, she took out her engagement ring, whose diamond had morphed into a long, glittering blade, and began stabbing the wolf with it. Second, when she jerked awake from that nightmare with sweat dotting her forehead, she realized that she was alone in her bed. A panicked moment followed in which she wondered whether she had dreamed all the events of the previous night. Telltale soreness between her legs and the scent of pure, intoxicating male that clung to her sheets told a different story. Last night had been no dream. She’d really gone and given her purity to two men at the same time. She’d given herself to men she desperately wanted but knew she could have no future with.

  Third and most important at the moment, the cheery sunshine pouring through the curtains made it clear that morning was well under way. As if all the rest wasn’t bad enough, she was late for work for the first time since David had hired her. Very late.

  “Shit,” she muttered, tossing off her blanket and snatching up the handset to the cordless phone on her nightstand. There was no intermittent beeping in the dial tone to indicate a waiting voice mail message. The caller ID didn’t show any missed calls from the office or his cell. Didn’t David care that she hadn’t shown up? Did he assume she was punishing him for the unpleasant confrontation the night before? Or had he decided not to bother calling because he was planning to fire her when she finally resurfaced?

  She punched in the office number but hung up when it clicked over to the answering machine. David wouldn’t be in the office. In her rush, she’d forgotten the breakfast meeting he had scheduled, one she was supposed to have been part of.

  All sorts of wild memories of the shower tried to assert themselves while she scrubbed herself, but she ignored them and hopped out to get dressed while still damp. After trying to tug nylons over damp shins ruined her second pair in as many days, she gave up on hosiery and slipped into tailored navy slacks and a matching knit shell. Her hair got little more than a quick shot with the hair dryer. Thank heavens she’d gone ahead with the radical haircut the week before. She skipped makeup, aside from a faint blush to cover her pale expression, and raced to the living room after brushing her teeth. She almost forgot to grab David’s engagement ring off the dining room table on her way out and turned to retrieve it.

  She halted when she glanced at the table top. “What the hell?”

  Frowning, she got down on her hands and knees and searched the beige carpeting under and around the table. It was no use. The ring was gone.

  “Dillon,” she muttered through gritted teeth while a wash of hot irritation rushed over her. Damn that cowboy and his little tricks with her ring. She still might not be prepared to give a final verdict about marrying David—if, in fact, that offer was still on the table, as he’d warned—but showing up to work beyond late and without the ring would not exactly send the message that all was well.

  Oh, well. There was nothing she could do at the moment. She could deal with Dillon and his smart-ass pranks after work, assuming she still had a job.

  Typically when Aimee arrived at Anders Investments, she found David already plugging away in his office. Today when she burst in, he was sitting in a chair beside Aimee’s desk, flipping a pencil end over end on the desktop. He had on the navy pinstripe shirt and gray suit slacks that she preferred on him. His tie had been loosened, however, and his shirtsleeves were rolled carelessly to the elbow. A bud vase sat on the middle of her desk that held a single red rose and a spray of baby’s breath.

  “Ted Jackson missed you at breakfast,” he said, not looking up from the pencil when she bustled over and dropped her purse into her own chair.

  “I am so sorry,” she blurted, shrugging off the blazer that matched her slacks and hanging it over the back of her chair. “I must have been exhausted after everything that happened this weekend. I passed out and never even heard the alarm.”

  He nodded, still focused on the pencil. “I suppose being out in the woods all night with a couple of strapping cowboys and two trips to the mountains would be rather taxing.” She froze, and he finally looked up at her. “I know you went back. I heard you talking to the blond one at the front door last night.”

  Averting his gaze, her eyes fell back to the bud vase on the desk. “The rose is beautiful.”

  “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. I shouldn’t have acted so territorial where you’re concerned. I don’t know what’s come over me lately.”

  She offered a tiny smile. “It’s okay. And I really am sorry about being late.” Her gaze shifted to a familiar envelope on the desk, and her smile faded at the sight of yet another thing she had to rectify from her long, bizarre weekend. “Oh, no. I forgot to pay Mom’s bill when I was there yesterday.”

  David shot her an odd smile as he stood up and faced her. “Seems like you had your mind on other things. Why did you go back up the mountain? You never did tell that guy.”

  She picked up her purse and deposited it in the chair he’d j
ust vacated at the side of her desk. “I honestly don’t know. After I visited Mom, I drove away from Applewood and didn’t even realize I’d started driving back up the mountain until I was halfway there.”

  “Back to them.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have even seen Dillon if I hadn’t stopped off for a bite to eat. He happened to be there.”

  “Convenient.”

  “I had no idea he was there. He probably wouldn’t have said a word to me, either, if he hadn’t had to step in and stop some drunk who pulled me out of my chair and dragged me to the dance floor.”

  David stared at her for a moment. “You certainly do have your share of admirers, don’t you? Not that I blame them. I swear, I should start recommending that all my clients invest heavily in whatever perfume you’ve been wearing lately. Drives men irrevocably insane.”

  As he spoke, David moved around the desk, holding her gaze. The hunger that flared in his dark eyes shot a spark of panic through her, and she instinctively began moving away until they were engaged in a slow, unspoken chase around the desk. “David, what are you doing?” she asked in a wary tone.

  His glance fell toward the hands she was using to grip the desk and pull herself around. “You aren’t wearing your ring.”

  She swallowed. “I didn’t think it would be right to wear it, what with everything that went on last night.” Which perhaps wasn’t far from the truth, all things considered. “I thought it might send the wrong message.”

  Brown eyes darkened further. “What message? That you might actually consider marrying the man who loves you?”

  One of them, anyway.

  He picked up his pace, cracking an uncharacteristic grin that would have churned her breakfast in her stomach had she bothered to eat any. “Do you have any idea how fantastic you smell? How sexy you look in that sweater and those fitted pants? I don’t know how I’ve managed to keep my hands off you all this time.”

  “Stop this,” she said, knocking papers askew from her desk as the chase continued. He feinted right, then left, then lunged across the desk and nearly caught her. She jumped back and set her hands on her hips. “You’re not seriously going to act like a smarmy boss who chases the secretary around the office to get her to sit on his lap?”

  “I want more from you than a bounce on my knee.” With her still backing away from the desk, David came around and caught her in a few quick strides. He took her by the upper arms, trapping her between his lean body and the wall behind her. “We’re both adult enough to stop playing coy and admit it.”

  The hunger in his eyes boiled up to a dangerous level. What the hell was wrong with him? He had never behaved like anything less than a gentleman before, and certainly not like an outright lecher. He was no better than the drunken sods who’d been hitting on her in the bar.

  An answer came in the form of Dillon’s voice echoing through her mind. If a bond mate is awakened sexually before she has been properly claimed…

  She stiffened in David’s arms, trying to still her racing heart and keep her voice from shaking. “I’m not playing coy. I’m asking you to be professional. As of right now, you are still my boss. And you’ve just crossed the line into harassment.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t feel how right it is.”

  “I don’t.”

  She lifted her chin a second before she realized that was a mistake. David took the gesture as an invitation. “Then maybe you need a little inspiration.”

  His lips came down on her yelp of protest, muffling it. Several thoughts flew through her mind—shoving him away, kicking him between the legs, or just giving in and letting him try and inspire her. It was only fair, considering how much inspiration she’d let two cowboys who were not her proposed fiancé offer her.

  A decision was forestalled by the sound of the outer office door opening. David yanked back with a slightly dazed expression, clearing his throat.

  “Your ten o’clock with Stan Mathers,” Aimee said, slightly breathless and grateful beyond belief.

  With a curt nod, David ran a hand through his hair to straighten the locks mussed during his game of ring-around-the-desk and went to greet the tall, graying man whose Italian suit alone was likely worth more than a month’s worth of Aimee’s salary.

  While the men made business small talk and headed into David’s office, she picked up papers that had hit the floor and slapped them back on the desk before collapsing onto her chair. Her pulse fluttered from shock and the brief chase while she pondered what to do next. The appointment would likely last a while, but then what would David do? Apologize for behaving like such a cad or pick up where he’d left off?

  She glanced down at the Applewood Hills envelope again, and her thoughts shifted track. How stupid could she be, forgetting something like that? She hadn’t missed a payment in her life—not ever. Well, perhaps she’d had to skimp a bit from time to time, meting out partial payments to all her creditors. She’d never just ducked out entirely, especially not where her mother’s medical care was concerned.

  Aimee blew a loose strand of hair away from her face while she picked up the phone and dialed the nursing home. She requested the business office and was making her apologies a few moments later.

  “I am terribly sorry for forgetting to make my payment yesterday,” she said. “I realize this weekend was the deadline, but I can come in on my lunch hour today and pay the balance. Will I have a late fee?”

  “Let me look up your mother’s account,” the clerk said. She heard the woman tap some keys, pause, and then tap some more.

  “If it’s only one day late, can I still pay the usual balance due?” Aimee asked.

  “There is no balance due,” the woman replied. “The account shows a credit of, huh. Wait. That’s weird.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Let me double-check something.” More clicking followed. “I’m going to put you on hold for a minute.”

  Music came on the line, and Aimee frowned. Ask about what? Just how much extra would she have to pay? Surely they wouldn’t toss her mother out over being one day late.

  The woman’s cheery voice came back on the line. “Okay, the figures checked out. You have a credit to the account for one hundred thousand dollars.”

  Aimee’s jaw fell. “That’s not possible. There must be some sort of accounting error.”

  “I thought so at first, too. But the account was paid in person this morning.”

  She sat up straighter in her chair. “By whom?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am. The other clerk took the payment. She said he was tall and handsome, though. Figured he was Mrs. Stevens’s son, or your husband?”

  “I’m not married.” Yet.

  Tall and handsome. Her eyes fell to the door across the hall that was marked D. Anders in gold lettering.

  “Well, someone took care of the bill.”

  “And the clerk was certain the man was paying for the right Mrs. Stevens? It’s a common last name.”

  “He specifically mentioned you as the durable power of attorney.”

  So it was David, then. She suppressed a hiccup of emotion. “Thank you.”

  She hung up and stared down at the envelope. Why had he done this? And could he really afford to give that much help when she hadn’t even answered his proposal? His investment company was successful but small and a literal his-and-hers operation. David was the investment consulting genius, and she little more than a glorified secretary. Did he truly have one hundred thousand dollars to toss away on a whim?

  He’d made the ultimate gamble to ensure her answer would be yes, and what else could she say now? No wonder he’d given her that tight little smile when she’d mentioned the overdue payment. And why he’d chased her around the desk like a randy high-school boy and kissed her right in her office. He already knew he’d won.

  Laughter came from behind his closed door, and she sighed and tucked the envelope away
in a drawer. David Anders’s investments always paid off, his clients said, and here was another example where that claim was about to be proven right. Just one thing remained—getting his ring back. She knew where she had to go to get it and who she had to say a firm and final farewell to before closing that door in her heart forever.

  Aimee’s stomach lurched with a lopsided flip at the thought of never seeing Dillon and Kyle again. Climbing into David’s bed and doing the things she’d done with her cowboys felt wrong, somehow. How twisted was that? David was the one who had given her a ring. He had been the one to promise her help and then deliver on it. David was stability and calm routine. Kyle and Dillon were danger and secrets and supernatural intrigue. Maybe those things actually drew her to them on some level. Women always went for the bad boys, right? Still, attraction to an element of risk wasn’t love. What she was feeling for them wasn’t real, as much as her heart tried to whisper otherwise. Even though her emotions for the two men had dug themselves deep in the brief time she’d known them, she couldn’t act on them. Maybe she couldn’t imagine ever feeling this way about David, no matter how much he tried to romance her or how much money he generously applied to her mother’s care. But the bottom line was she’d gone for years without being impressed by the notion of romance. Suddenly, she was ready to throw responsibility to the wind—and for what? Hot nights riding a couple wild, dirty cave dwellers. Something had gone very wrong in her head.

  The office door opened, and Stan Mathers slapped David hard on the back as they shared a private laugh. Both men were grinning ear to ear as David’s happy gaze landed on Aimee. Her heart gave a little skip, though she realized it wasn’t because he turned her emotions upside down. She merely didn’t know if he was about to start things up where they’d left off—or what she’d do about it now that she knew what he’d done.